


Don't belong to no city, don't belong to no man.

by Spiltlava



Category: Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona Q: Shadow of the Labyrinth
Genre: Gen, i listened to a lot of Halsey while writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4890040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiltlava/pseuds/Spiltlava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I think the one who made this labyrinth calls himself a God, or something..."<br/>Junpei's the one to say it, and for a reason that only Makoto knows, he finds himself growing restless. <br/>He thins his lips, otherwise he'd be bound to say something.</p>
<p>——</p>
<p>Takes the Makoto has a God Complex, runs with it, and switches it up so that he's actually a young god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't belong to no city, don't belong to no man.

"I think the one who made this labyrinth calls himself a _God_ , or something..."

Junpei's the one to say it, and for a reason that only Makoto knows, he finds himself growing restless. He thins his lips, otherwise he'd be bound to say something. But he's kept himself in control so far, even at the Group Date Cafe, as that boss was spewing blasphemy. He loathed that Cleryiman. How he knew nothing of who his God really was. There is only one God to save them all, and he has deserted them, they just don't know it yet because he still leads the group.  
He's preoccupied with his thoughts as the team finds a way to light the flame to bring to the previously blocked door. So preoccupied, he misses the way the Vice Leader is staring at him. Like he knows Yūki's secret, but that's impossible. No one knows his secret.

* * *

 

They don't stay long in the labyrinth. Not yet. The first time entering is always just to get a feel for the place. Once back in the school, however, Makoto separates. It's not unusual for him to do so, as the blue haired boy usually spends his free time alone, but the motion of it still leaves Yū cautious. The leader was acting strange today, he wanted to find out why.

* * *

 

It doesn't take long for Yūki to know he's being followed, his steps slow to a halt once they're on the second floor, and he turns slowly to look at the taller, over his shoulder. He doesn't say anything, but he's sure there's something in his eyes. Something that shouldn't be found out. He's got knowledge beyond his years, and though he does not know the reason why, Makoto knows that he is not a normal teenage boy. He is not human. He is a young god, the young god that people search for. He is the messiah come to save the world. Yū pauses, blinking slowly as he tries to understand, before he closes the distance between them.

"...Are you ~~okay~~?"

It's a phrased question that Yūki is unsure of how to answer. He just shrugs, and turns his face away. Is anyone ever really okay? Do humans know the true meaning of the word? He is a god, and he does not know the answer. So obviously, neither would they. He takes his left hand out of his pocket, bringing it up to unclip his headphones. This conversation is over before it begins, he finalises that by putting his headphones in and turning on his MP3. He keeps walking until he finds the stairs, for the roof is his final goal. He's not sure why, but he's been drawn to higher places. Closer to the sky. Must be because of the blood in his veins that prove he is not human. His companions, he knows they want to go to heaven, but they're human tonight.

It's expected, but annoying, to hear the door open moments after he's sat down. It's expected, but irritating to find that it's Yū, because Makoto has stopped their conversation. There is no need for him to trail after him like an infant. A newborn puppy trying to familiarise itself with it's new owner. He does not have the patience, but that is a lie. Patience, he has an abundance of. It comes with knowing ignorant people, or just those who are slow. There is no point in snapping at people who cannot help themselves, that is why he is here. He has been sent to help them, to save them. But the longer he lingers in this world, as their merciful messiah, the longer he wonders if they are worth saving. Even with this group of people from the countryside, who are more close knit than he and his team will ever be, Yūki wonders if they deserve his aid. If the boy sitting beside him, with eyes the same grey as his, should be granted his hand, should be spared of his wrath. Yū is looking at him, like he wonders that, too. But that's impossible, because no other human knows that he is not human. Nobody else knows that he has the strength of a young god, still a child in his powers, but he will grow. Oh, will he grow.  
His music is too loud to hear what his unwanted company says, Makoto does not bother turning it down.

Not until Yū keeps talking, and he realises he will not stop, until he gives in and listens. It's such a hassle, to pause what he was doing to cater to someone else, but it's something he does. So, he takes his earphones out, and turns to the taller with a small frown.

"—down the hallway, naked, with a sword in my hand."

...What?  
"What?"

Yū smiles, this soft thing that curls at the corners. Yūki wonders if, in a different light, it would look threatening, instead of calm. Like a pause before the oncoming storm. He wonders, in an absent way, if perhaps he would be a young god, as well, in a different life. But that's impossible, because he would know. And to him, nothing is out of place. There is a pull towards him, but that is only becase of the Wild Card that they both share. Makoto is the universe, eternal and unwavering. Powerful at the core and resting deep inside, elated and humming.

"I wanted to see if you were paying attention."  
A pause, and the smile leaves.  
"You seem troubled in the labyrinth, and now. What are you thinking of?"

Yūki shrugs, and looks away, eyes overshadowed, eyelashes fanning against his cheekbones when he blinks. Yū does not want to know what he's thinking of. His mind is a dreadful place, warped and twisted with loathful thoughts towards the human race, or indifference. He doesn't care, but at the same time, he decides their fate. Are they undeserving, of his mercy? Should he cast a bubble around these two groups of people, and destroy the ones left unshielded? Should he let them rebuild the world, and observe with his watchful eyes, to make sure they adapt. They will adapt. He's certain of it.  
He's uncertain, if they are deserving.  
Perhaps Yū. He hesitates when it comes to the fate of the other boy. He doesn't like thinking on it, he doesn't like his hesitation. He needs to be certain in his thoughts, in his actions.

"Nothing important."  
It's what he settles with, it's the only thing he can say. It's not convincing, he can tell, but Yū is not ready.

Yūki gets up, and he leaves. The conversation is, once again, over. He does not have time to waste on human curiosity. He is busy, getting stronger, accepting his otherworldly growth. And he knows the velvet room inhabitants see it, too. Margaret stares at him, when she thinks he isn't looking. Elizabeth is not so subtle. She makes comments, elusive and vague, but he understands. Because he must. Theodore is the only one that has asked him about it. He's questioned why Makoto was like he was, but he had no answer. Why was he, a young god, put in the body of a young boy? Was he the reason his, very human, parents were killed? Of course, he knows that isn't the truth, but the thought lingers. It's annoying, he wants it to stop. Thinking like that is so painfully human, disgustingly mortal. He clears his thoughts, again.  
Yū will understand, he muses as he closes the rooftop's door. Maybe he will open up to him, if it is proved he deserves to be at his will, deserves to see the new world that this merciful messiah creates. But until then, only time will tell.

There's a storm he's starting, now. Leaving behind a hurricane in his wake.


End file.
